Page 2 of Danger and Dominance
Lincoln shot him a sympathetic look from where he was still sitting.
“This isn’t the same situation as Tasha, David,” he said gently.
Of course, he would remember.
“Not yet, but it could be.”He could still remember the sight of his ex in the hospital bed, face battered blue and purple, lip split, bandages over the stitches in her stomach where she’d been stabbed.He’d been her ex, but she hadn’t changed her emergency contact number.David rubbed his hands on his pants, trying to rub away the sweat that always immediately sprung to his palms at the memory.They’d broken up, but he’d still cared about her.He’d still gone running when he’d gotten the call from the hospital, then he’d been there for her through her recovery and the trial.
It was five years ago, and he could still remember every second of how helpless he’d felt.How enraged he’d felt.Especially when the bastard’s ex-girlfriends had lined up to testify at the trial.Tasha’s lawyer had found them and convinced them to testify, to show a pattern of abuse, and they had.
Not one of them had filed a report.If they had, Tasha never would have dated the man.She always ran her dates, doing her best to stay safe.She almost hadn’t dated David because, as special forces, there had been a lot about his past that she couldn’t look up.
She’d tried so hard.
The bastard was behind bars now, while Tasha had moved to California and was happily married with one kid and another on the way.He should have been past this reaction, but he wasn’t.Abuse cases always made him edgy, which was why he normally stayed away from Naomi’s shelter.
Tilting his head back and forth, he cracked his neck, then rolled his shoulders, pushing some of the tension from them.Lincoln was looking at him with sympathy.
“Are you going to be okay?”Lincoln asked.“I can have someone else run lead on this.Mason, perhaps.”Their resident psychologist and profiler.
Temptation to hand it off to someone else beckoned for just a moment, but he knew his duty.Temptation passed, and David shook his head.
“I’m team captain.It’s my responsibility.”He made it a point never to ask his team to do something he wouldn’t.
Lincoln nodded slowly.He might have said something more, but the phone on his desk rang.His gaze flicked to the phone, to the caller ID, and he leaned over to pick it up.
“Yes, Jennifer.”He paused.“Okay, thank you.We’ll be right there.”He looked at David as he hung up the phone.
It was time to go meet their newest client.
Cassidy
The drive up to Pittsburgh had been odd.Scary in its way because she was going into the unknown.New city, new people, new club… she’d made some friends while she was in Maryland, once she no longer had Don controlling her every move.She’d felt comfortable and safe at Stronghold, but she’d never felt safe when she was at home, school, or work because she knew Don was still out there.
Over the past few months, she’d felt less and less safe until she’d finally agreed that getting out of town was the best move.She didn’t want to leave, but it wasn’t just her own life at stake.Don had been messing with the people who had saved her.If he was going to hurt someone, she’d rather it be her than any of them.
Although she didn’t want to be hurt, either.
Why can’t he just leave me alone?
That was the thought running through her head over and over again, then she’d feel awful because if he was leaving her alone, that might mean he had moved on to someone else.That he might be hurting another woman.
She wished he would just get hit by a bus.
Sometimes, when she was thinking about what she would do if he ever showed up in front of her again, she pictured killing him.He would come at her, and she would stab him, right through the heart, over and over again.Running him over with a car.Getting a lucky shot in and breaking his nose, hitting him in the exact right way to send bone splinters into his brain—though she wasn’t actually sure if that was a real thing or not, she’d read about it once.Or shooting him.She’d been taking shooting lessons.She didn’t have a carry permit, which was why she only ever pictured that happening if he broke into her house.
Self-defense.
Maybe she’d end up in jail, maybe she wouldn’t.
But she’d be safe because he would be gone.
Mistress Julie, who was also her therapist, had told her it was perfectly normal to fantasize about situations that would make her feel safe again.Though she hadn’t told Mistress Julie exactly how often she had that particular fantasy.Constantly.Daily.Every time she stepped into a new space, she would end up with a new one—how he might appear, how he might attack her, how she would defend herself.
How she might be proactive.
She couldn’t help it.Her brain just did it.Every time.
But coming to Pennsylvania, sneaking away so he didn’t know where she was, maybe her brain would finally stop.
